An Impossible World
by Syweb2 OR Spore Cannon
Summary: Two inter-Universal mercenary teams. One Universe. Endless possibilities. What could POSSIBLY go wrong?
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:**

 **This fanfiction uses characters and concepts from the following:**

 **Pokemon**

 **StarCraft**

 **Doctor Who**

 **Bionicle**

 **And MANY others. It also relies heavily on OCs (Original Characters). Reader discretion is advised.**

Chapter 1

A tall, dark, lanky figure stood atop a white hill, overseeing the equally blank land and its less plain inhabitants. Bio-mechanical, wasp-like Nui-Rama zigzagged their way across the sky, accompanied by other airborne wildlife, while people of various sentient species from many worlds walked along the ground below. Scattered throughout the boringly-colored ground were landmarks and locations borrowed from several universes deemed worthy of sprucing up the mundane plains. In the sky, whose coloration was indistinguishable from that of the ground, Hyper Zone, the Galactic Nova, the Death Star, and other notable satellites/planetoids hung in place, silently looking down upon the ground-dwellers. A clever eye might even notice multiple instances of the same individual wandering about at the same time. Though some may find this strange, or even disturbing (after all, the Death Star was ever-present, and many already have unpleasant memories of its activation), all of the aforementioned entities being present together here was commonplace, barely noteworthy within this colorless realm, if even that.

The aforementioned tall figure, though previously described as dark, was actually quite pale (though not to the level of albinism). The idea that he was dark came from his all-black clothes, jet hair, and piercing, coal-black eyes. Twenty-seven-year-old Justin "Shade" looked over the white landscape at his vantage point, doing his best to make sure that nothing escaped his notice. Of course, being all alone out here, so far away from the more civilized areas, would be an act of idiocy. To ensure that no one approached him without his knowledge, he had brought a couple of friends along.

Twenty-eight-year-old James "Psych" M was his closest of buddies, having earned his nickname through repeated and consistent displays of immense psychic prowess (which, in turn, made him incredibly vulnerable to other psychic individuals). He was garbed in a green light jacket, a violet t-shirt with a cyan collar, light blue jeans, violet shoes with cyan highlights, and white socks. His skin was peach (the term "white" had become outdated, and was reserved for the palest of beings) and the irises of his eyes were green, while the scleras were purple (an unusual coloration, to say the least). His hair was a light, chocolate brown, in contrast to Justin's pitch black. His hair was also a fair amount shorter than Justin's, which was almost shoulder-length at the back. In contrast to Justin's quiet, reserved attitude, James was far more relaxed and open, though he always kept an eye out in all directions (not at the same time, of course).

Twenty-seven-year-old Emily Bren was something else entirely. Her skin-tone was almost identical to that of Psych, and they were a similar height (both being a few inches shorter than their dark-clad companion), but that was where the similarities ended. Emily bore a navy-blue t-shirt and grey combat pants. Her footwear consisted of messy white(?) socks and grey shoes with brown laces. Sprouting from her back were large, black, avian wings whose span could stretch across her entire body if they were removed and placed parallel to her (which would never happen unless she was dead). Her hair was straight and black, ending roughly at the halfway point between her shin and shoulders. She had hard orange eyes, and a demeanor that most would read as grumpy or angry. Those who were familiar with her would also add "hungry" to the list, as her boundless stomach knew no limits.

Together, the trio kept watch at their post, as was their current assignment. Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't be answering to anyone else. However, there was, as some would put it, an "administrative entity" who was in charge of keeping order throughout, and disobeying direct orders from this being was anything but a good idea. As such, Justin and his friends were stuck standing sentry over a location of minimal importance for the vast majority of inhabitants.

Eventually sitting down, Justin began to daydream, his mind wandering to many things outside his immediate vicinity. Among them was his wife, Eko Bren. As the name suggested, she was Emily's sister (Emily simply ignored that fact). She was his junior by one year, but that didn't stop her from taking control of many aspects of his life and proving her worth as an able companion. Fortunately, both lacked the desire and ability to breed. If that were not true for one of them (namely, Eko), then their ability to remain a happy couple would be nonexistant. Justin was, for once, enjoying himself, reminiscing about some of Eko's words of wisdom and basic advice.

That is, until he felt IT. The sensation all inhabitants feel when someone or something is duplicated and brought into this strange, strange world. He immediately turned toward the primary Entrance, a massive ten-story-tall set of twin doors, and sighed. _It's the second time today_ , he thought to himself as he gathered his friends. Emily and Psych were ready to greet the newbies, even eager. It had been a month since these two last held the job of entrance-watch, and they felt they could manage anything. Justin wasn't so sure. Either way, they had to make their way over to the entrance and welcome the newcomers.

As they walked to the mysterious room, they voiced their guesses as to whom or what it could be.

"It better not be more Cybermen," Psych complained. "We have enough of those already." He remembered all too well how difficult it was to get those stubborn cyborgs to adjust, and they were brought in at one of the worst of times.

"It could be something new," Emily suggested. "Remember the surprise from a couple days ago?" She was, of course, referring to the surprise that was a massive influx of Zebesian Space Pirates. She only found this out via hear-say from Justin. If she had been there at the time of the event, she'd have challenged them all simultaneously to a fight, and probably would have won.

"Unfortunately, yes," Justin muttered. That fiasco was best left forgotten. "Hey, what happened to Eko? Shouldn't she be coming with us?"

Emily facepalmed. "I knew I was forgetting something," She muttered as they neared the Entrance. Truth be told, Emily would rather her younger sister stay home and be safe instead of expose herself to the shenanigans that Justin, herself, and mostly Psych bring.

Eventually (about three minutes of strolling later), they made it over to the fabled Entrance. The indestructible doors loomed over the small party, their blank frames giving them minor chills.

"Welp. Here we go." Psych mustered his courage and closed the distance between the door and himself.

As the trio pushed the massive door open, they collectively groaned. "Not THIS again," Justin complained. "Anything but THIS."


	2. Chapter 2: So Begin the Shenanigans

Justin eyed the three arrivals carefully. In the center was Sierra 7, a former Aura Guardian and royal pain in the ass whenever they had conflicting interests, which was unfortunately often. To one side was a rather familiar Protoss Dark Templar by the name of Zeratul. And to the other side was… someone entirely unfamiliar to the ShadowLight Alpha trio. He looked like an ordinary Pokémon trainer from Sinnoh, but Psych quickly divulged, via his memories, that he was well over three, or even four centuries old (which Psych called bullshit on. No human could live that long, and he was born human if his earliest intact memories had anything to say about it. Though there were a few safelocked tidbits…). Justin put on his best poker face.

Sierra 7 spoke. "Justin Shade, commander of the ShadowLight mercenaries. We meet again, but for the first peaceful time." Justin couldn't believe his luck, and he let his face know.

He responded with, "Well, well, yes we do, Sierra. Do you secret-squirrel types mind telling me why you're here? It can't be out on a whim." He apparently chose the wrong set of words, as his two friends to the sides began preparing themselves for combat. Sierra's group, however, did not.

Fortunately, the Sinnoh trainer popped in to break the ice. "Guys and gal, let's just get these intros out of the way, niceties and alliances established, and just leave each other alone. We are only here for some fun and _hopefully_ not to kill anyone. We saw what happened _last_ time we were in the same place."

Justin took notice of the diffusal attempt and couldn't help but chuckle, then laugh. Not only did he annoy Psych, but he was either brave or stupid enough to try to calm Emily down. Justin proceeded to finish the job. "Oh, kid, I like you. You've got some real skills to pull off something like that. Alright," he gestured to his left, "This is my friend Emily. Well, two of 'em, anyhow. Sierra, you might know what I'm talking about." He indicated to his right, "And this here is Psych, our resident super-psychic." He gave a little nod toward Sierra, pointing out that it was his turn.

He accepted. "I assume you already know Zeratul, what from your escapades. However, you have yet to meet Lucas Pearl, the Blessed One of Palkia, and our multiverse library." After giving them a few seconds to let that sink in, he asked "So, Mr. Shade, shall we take the tour?"

The tour was long, yet quite informative for the Sierra assassins, mainly because of how varied the relatively small world was, along with the fact that it could change form at seemingly random intervals, which apparently gave Lucas a headache. Even crazier was the fact that it duplicated and extracted parts of other worlds, which put an old Protoss citadel right smack between a Chozo settlement and 2Fort. Despite the sheer hilarity and randomness that this caused, it was kept in check, not by a god or supreme deity, but the Universe itself, a sentient, thinking being that teleported parts of itself around before they could cause too much trouble (like scratching an itch). Which inevitably meant that you could be having a conversation with someone at one moment, and talking at air the next. It was a miracle that no one had been cut in half by this.

After the three-hour walk, everyone was surprised when Psych started the conversation. "Sierra Seven, forgive me if I'm wrong, but if you are not here to slay and pillage, then what point is there?"

The former aura guardian easily admitted, "Actually, there is not much point in that regard. However, to protect timelines, the Author requires me by his Covenant to rest every ten years. A vacation, if you will." Psych didn't like it, but there was honesty behind that statement.

Eventually, the six (technically eight) beings dispersed, with Zeratul finding some old friends, Justin and Psych thinking of ways to mildly prank Sierra without him getting TOO pissed off, Emily walking upside-down on the cave ceiling (looking for something she buried there not too long ago), and Sierra Seven and Lucas visiting a slice of home, a transplanted mountain from Unova.

Then, they felt it. A distortion in the air, shake of the ground. Space was tearing. As they rushed out of the cave, they saw that Sierra and Lucas had beat them to the punch, opening a portal and summoning forth a slew of beings. Then, it clicked : They were making a base. Probes, Bonesingers, and some generic workers from some other race poured out of the portal. "SIERRA! What are you doing?! I thought this was a vacation, for crying out loud!" Justin yelled, furious at the soon-to-be waste of a labor force. What were they THINKING?

Then came the battle-cry of one of the few forces that were capable of lasting a decent amount of time in head-to-head combat with ShadowLight Alpha:

"FOR THE ASCENDED!"


	3. Chapter 3 - Part 1: Surrounded By Jerks

Justin ran until he got a clear field of view, then stopped and turned around fully. He held his arms straight up-and-down, parallel to each other and his torso. He stepped forward with his right foot and swung his arms back slightly. He took careful aim.

And threw the best double-armed underhand swing he could.

Springing forth from his body came a black, humanoid silhouette, with white eyes that glowed like floodlights. Though basic, it became more defined as it flew through the air, eventually solidifying as what could only be described as a female gender bend of Justin. Due to the fact that it was about to land on its face, it held its arms out and used them as a trampoline of sorts; it landed on its palms, then propelled itself upward and forward, ending up in midair with its back facing the ground. Doing a triple front-flip, it ended its over-the-top stunt train by pulling a spear out of nowhere and throwing it, with potentially deadly accuracy, at Lucas. Breaking his concentration, he sacrificed his portal in exchange for dodging the sharp, sixty-mile-an-hour steel rod. Landing in a catlike position, the unidentified figure unsheathed a double-bladed sword (war glaive) and held it out defensively. It silently noted that Sierra began paying careful attention to said weapon.

"Meet Emma," Justin stated as he finished climbing up the hill. "Think of her as my second-in-command; remove me, and you still have to deal with her." They briefly gestured towards each other. "But enough about my alternate personality disorder. Let's get to the main point." At this, he took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled. After several seconds, he spoke again. "This. Is. NOT. A base world. It has not been, nor will it ever be. You will leave it out of our businesses, and keep our disputes away from it. When you will leave, you will act like it never existed. Am I understood?"

Sierra Seven merely watched.

"Apparently not. Let me make myself more clear." Without warning, Justin flung his arm out to the side, launching a combat knife-looking object attached to a chain out. It pierced, and lodged itself firmly in, an Eidolon's chest armor. Yanking hard, Justin practically levitated the surprised soldier as he dragged him over. As the unmoving, yet still living, humanoid lay on its back, Justin put one foot on its chest and drew a knife, identical to the one embedded in the Eidolon, and pointed it at the unfortunate being's head. "I heard that these soldiers take some time to procure and train. As of now, not many in existence. They'll become even rarer if you don't confirm that you were PAYING ATTENTION. Reality to Seven, I'M GOING TO KILL THIS MAN IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME YOUR FULL, UNDIVIDED ATTENTION."

Sierra only responded with "You have made yourself clear."

Justin removed the knife and stepped off the armored figure. "Thank you. Now, did you REALLY think that you were the FIRST one to try to put a base here?"

There were a few nods.

"Well, you're wrong. There have been FIVE documented attempts, yours being the sixth. All have failed."

"And I assume you were there to stop them?" Sierra bluntly stated.

Justin snorted. "Who do you think was the second one?" He waited for that to sink in. "I tried! Hell, I worked my ass off to even get as far as YOU got. Trust me, I was only accelerating the inevitable with this one. I did you guys a FAVOR." He stopped to catch his breath. "Now step off befo-"

It was then that he noticed Emily undergoing some form of mental trauma. She was crouched on the ground, holding her head and muttering to herself. Justin could guess what was going to happen next.

Emily slowly stood up, her mumbling becoming louder, more defined. Her hands dropped slightly. Justin finally realized what she was saying: "Maim. Hunt. Destroy. Seek. Consume. Devour. Break. Cripple. End. Eat. Slash. Murder. KILL." Once that string of single-word sentences ended, she recoiled back, as if she was hit in the face. As this happened, her body began morphing. Her normally feathered wings became bat-like, leathery. Her forefingers and middle fingers fused together, as did her ring-fingers and pinkies. Her head became tubular, and her hair began sticking to her as if it were painted on, as did her clothes. And everywhere, everywhere, there were the blotches, brown, orange, and tan, popping up and covering her entire skin. Her limbs became slightly thinner, yet somewhat longer, and her shoes were replaced with clawed feet, each with three digits. Her three-fingered hands sprouted claws as well. Any human features were flattened and absorbed into the body, and her eyes became a deep, deep red. Her mouth, a circular opening taking up one entire face of the cylinder, was ringed with teeth.

When the convulsions had finished, the resulting monstrosity began panting, searching the surrounding environment without actually moving, its eyes darting this way and that. Within a matter of seconds, it found a target. It ran forward, pushing Justin out of the way and forcing him into colliding with Emma. Leaping into the air, it forced a probe onto the ground. Holding it down, the creature began… drooling acid.

Though the probe's plasma shield protected it briefly, the acid quickly overpowered it, breaking through and melting the unfortunate robot. After the green liquid finished its work, all that was left of the probe was a greenish-yellow puddle that slowly began to flow outward. The orange and brown monster stepped away from its handiwork and screeched in victory.

And was immediately cut in half by Zeratul. As its upper body was separated from its lower half, the torso fell forward with a _thud!_ For a brief moment, the legs stayed standing, before they too fell, backwards this time, cut cleanly and perfectly. The wound was a perfectly even, flat slice, as if performed by a guillotine. It took a moment before it even started bleeding.

In the commotion, Emma was reabsorbed into Justin, and Psych had teleported onto the hill just in time to see what happened. After the execution of the rogue creature, he merely looked at Zeratul.

"I did what was necessary," was all that the dark Prelate said, as it was all that was necessary.

"And I commend you for that," Psych responded, walking up to the sneaky Protoss. As he did so, he kicked both halves of the corpse out of the way, intentionally knocking them into the acid pool. Looking at the crude, yet efficient, waste disposal method, he only said "It'll clear itself out," watching the acid consume the creature that created it. He turned and looked at Sierra Seven and Lucas, glaring at them ever so slightly. "At least you brought cannon fodder," he muttered. Secretly, he wondered how they would react if his (now former) friend had targeted a living, irreplaceable being, maybe even Lucas (even if she went berserk, she knew not to mess with Sierra directly). He remembered that this was the first time they saw Emily when she lost control. Well, time to do what he does best.

Opening a pocket dimension, he created a spherical viewport, letting anything around the baseball-sized portal see into the pocket dimension. "See this?" He asked. "This is a window into a pocked dimension." Everyone around him nodded. Not even Justin knew what he was up to by this point. "What's IN that pocket dimension, you may ask? It's simple: a basic resource, nothing too complex, though they DO have an interesting crystalline structure. You simply call them Minerals." The probes which had been idling, having nothing to do, all turned to look at the psychic that had mentioned their primary resource. The other workers payed a little more attention, now. Actually, everyone did. A smile inched its way onto his face. "These are ALL of yours. I'll only be taking them for analysis, but in the meantime, you won't Have Enough Minerals." Adding salt to the wound, he laughed, teleporting away to who-knows-where.

During this one-sided conversation, Justin moved next to Sierra. However, when the ball dropped, so did his jaw. He looked at the assassin next to him, who gave him a sideways glance. Looking forward, they said, in sync: "It's going to be one of THOSE days, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 3 - Part 2: Tentative Alliance

Justin, Sierra Seven, Lucas, and Zeratul trudged forward, past the transplanted towns, through the corridors between zones, over bridges. Justin knew EXACTLY where Psych was, and was going to … do something. He wasn't sure what he would do exactly. Upon considering the fact that Psych could sense him a mile away, had telekinesis, and had perfected a whole slew of other abilities, some of which outstripping Justin's own equivalents, he realized he had very few options. On his own, that is. Now, however, he had made a very, VERY brief alliance with Sierra and his party. In reality, it was actually the other way around, considering THEY were the ones that his friend had stolen from. Justin was the one supplying aid.

He didn't actually know what he would be getting out of this. Better to cross that bridge, when (if) they ever got to it.

Eventually, they found their way to a large, flat, white expanse, with little white blocks dotting it here and there. Little was relative, considering their sizes ranged from that of two-story houses to those of mansions. They passed several, all with labels on their sides. At one point, they passed one marked "/b/".

"We don't go there." Justin told the party. "Ever."

"Why's that?" Lucas inquired.

"We. DON'T. Go in there." Justin restated.

"But why?" Lucas prodded.

Justin let out a long, slow breath. He turned around and looked at the three beings that had followed him here. "That box," he pointed to the one in question, "is known by some as the random zone. That box," he paused briefly for emphasis, "is home to some of the worst depravity, hostility, and abusiveness that terrestrial humans can muster. THAT BOX," he paused again, clenching his fist and dropping his arm back to his side, "IS WHERE THE SCUM OF THE EARTH GO FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES! And I swear, I SWEAR, if any one of us goes into that hellhole, if you ever return, you will not be the same." He took in a breath. "So don't go in there, okay?" With that, he turned around and began marching toward some place in the distance, a place that had grown incredibly familiar with after finding himself in this strange world.

After another hour of walking (with occasional breaks), the found themselves facing one of the biggest boxes yet. It was easily fifty meters wide, at minimum, just as tall, and who knows how long.

"Gentlemen, I present to you," Justin lifted his arms and turned around to face his miniscule audience, "the team-based combat-scenario randomizer. You can just call it the combat randomizer." He pushed open a door. "Please, after you."

As the motley party walked into the building, they found themselves facing four doors. Each one had a different label: Offense, Defense, Random, Spectator. Each door was also marked with a different color. Offense was orange, defense was cyan, spectator was grey, and random was brown.

Justin presented his plan. "I know Psych well enough to figure that this would be the most likely place he will be. However, that is as far as my knowledge goes. As such, we will have to search for him manually. He never spectates, which leaves open two options: offense and defense. We'll split up to cover more ground. Seven, you and Zeratul will take defense." He gestured to the two assassins in question. "Lucas and I will go offense. Now because this activity has rules, you will actually have to contribute to you team's objective. So, each of our groups will have two goals: first, help your team. Follow orders, cooperate, and work together to help achieve victory. Second, look for Psych. Because he is immediately recognizable, you won't have to pour all your energy into it. Just look out for him." He inhaled deeply, then let out a long sigh. "Now, let me tell you something about this activity. Any and all special abilities you have out here will be overwritten once you join. Zeratul can't cloak or blink, Lucas can't do Palkia stuff, I can't use my shadow powers, and Seven can't do the bullshit that Ascendant grants him. You will also lose access to your weaponry. These sacrifices will be replaced by randomly selected powers and equipment from all across the multiverse. You can end up with any combination. And by any, I mean ANY combination. Think of it like armory roulette." Justin turned around and made his way to the offense door. "Oh, and two other things: if you die in there, you will be revived within five to thirty seconds at the 'Spawn Room'. That's why these matches take so long. And each team consists of twenty members. Expect crazy crap to go down."

As Lucas and Justin made their way into the Offense Lobby, they took in their surroundings. There were several benches on the sides, and a sliding metal gate at what they presumed to be the front of the room. But what really caught their attention was the population of the large room. There were two visitors from Team Fortress (Scout and Soldier), along with a few generic humanoids, a High Templar, and, strangely, a Sectoid Commander. Then Lucas stopped cold.

"Ridley?" He asked, incredulous, as the purple space pterodactyl looked at him with contempt.

Justin remembered the story of what happened between these two. Apparently, it was even true. He decided to step in. "We're all on the same team here. So, let's not bring up old grudges, and rather focus on something helpful, like what our plan of attack should be."

Ridley snorted. "You know very well what my plan will be," he growled. Suddenly, his beak-like snout broke into a grin. "It hasn't failed me yet."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Suuure…" He turned and walked away, opening the supply closet and pulling out three cubes. He closed the cabinet and watched as the cubes transformed into his first loadout: the Manado, the Battalion's Backup, and an AK-47. Not terrible, but not good, either. He looked up at the timer on the wall. Thirty seconds until mission's start. He relayed the time limit to everyone else, who immediately rushed to the nearest supply lockers to get their armaments before the shit really hit the fan. When those thirty seconds elapsed, fifteen of the twenty people on the offense team ran out the now-open door, itching to get on with the mayhem. Justin was not among those fifteen.

Instead, he slowly tiptoed out of a side entrance, AK in hand, looking for cover. Finding it, he dove behind a rock and looked out onto the battlefield. Hopefully, he would actually be able to get a few shots off before getting trickshotted. He slowly lifted his gun up, looked through the sights, and took careful aim at a marauding Zebesian.

A plasma shot wasted no time in burning its way through his skull. As the kill-camera showed him the guy that just ended his first of many lives, he simultaneously felt sick with disgust and explosive laughter. The sight in front of him was Zeratul wielding a Plasma Sniper Rifle, hidden behind a cliff face on the opposite side of the canyon that they were in. Who would've thought.

 **Ten Minutes Earlier**

One of Justin's many alternate selves power-walked toward the simple shed. Busting open the door, he found his Light counterpart/twin and his three friends playing poker in a dimly lit room. "Hey guys" the Facet began, "great news!" Everyone could hear the sarcasm that had mixed itself into his voice.

"What?" Flare asked.

"Sierra's here."

Psych's counterpart threw down his cards. "I'm calling bullshit!" He folded his arms in indignation.

A small, white and blue machine attempted to soothe the twenty-eight-year-old. "Who says that he's here on business?" Orion calmly pointed out. "He could have been Drafted like the rest of us, or perhaps he even just wants a break. Think of the crap he goes through on a daily basis." As always, the Reconstructor was the voice of reason.

Amelia neatly put her cards in an even stack and stood up. "We'll find out when we meet him. And, yes, Steel, you're coming too." With that, she grabbed her red-and-yellow clad companion by the shoulder and dragged him out of the shed, with both Justins and Orion following her without a word.

ShadowLight Alpha-

Members located: 9/15

 **And thus, the second half of the third chapter ends. I hope you enjoyed this tidbit, as more are on the way. You have just been treated to a morsel of information: the number of members of ShadowLight Alpha. With this serving of confusion, I bid thee farewell, and good morrow. We WILL meet again… ;)**


	5. Chapter 4: When shit hits the fan-

Justin was, currently, having the time of his several lives. Upon discovering the small chance that he would get some special power from some Universe, _as well as_ a standard-ish loadout, he greatly anticipated each and every respawn, just to see how crazy each successive iteration of him got in terms of weaponry (although occasionally he would get a rather boring slot, like a crappy pistol or something like that). His favorite moment, by far, was when he threw a knife into the air while standing on a relatively high alcove, drew a Machina, scoped, jumped out of the recess, did a double-back flip, and fired, his shot passing through three enemies, as his knife fell and cleaved someone else's skull open (even better was that Sierra Seven was one of the three triple-victims). The fall broke his left shin. Ignoring the pain, he yelled, "OOH BABY A TRIPLE! OHH YEAH!", fist pumping the air while doing so. That was when the Bouncing Betty leaped off of the ground and obliterated everything above his thighs.

He almost immediately regretted that trickshot, as Mr. Seven decided to camp in a choke point with a couple of pocket medics and droideka blasters. After the second attempt to dislodge the unusually tanky assassin, he decided that no method of frontal assault would dislodge him from his perch. During the third try, he was only trying to distract him long enough for someone else to end Sierra's rain of lasers. He charged forward, activating his Super Star and pumping his arms and legs, trying to get as far forward as possible. As soon as the invulnerability ended, he was nailed by lasers. _However_ , this gave Ridley and the Sectoid Commander, both armed with the Air Strike variant of the rocket launcher, to take positions, and for the cloaked High Templar to get behind the medics. All went according to plan flawlessly.

After that nonsense and shenanigans, Justin tried a more subtle route, with less shooting and more stabbing (of course, without his normal ability to shadow-hop, this was incredibly more difficult than he would like to admit). As he waltzed over to the Supply Closet, he silently hoped against hope that he would get a proper blade and some way to climb the cliffs without yanking his shoulders out of their sockets. He opened the supply closet, noticing the three black, grape-sized cubes waiting for him. This was the moment of truth. He grabbed one, then the next, hesitantly picking up the last one. He crushed them in his hands. _Pleasepleaseplease-_ he thought, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the sight that greeted him took the breath out of his lungs. In his right hand, a shortsword, blade and handle the color of bismuth bronze, a spherical red gem embedded in the handle-guard, two more like-colored eye-shaped gems inserted in the middle of the blade itself, the sword tipped with a chakram-like ring. The blade, on first glance, seemed ornately shaped and carved, but upon closer inspection it was revealed that the shapes that dominated the blade and guard were all humanoid, in various stages of torment, torture, or terror, some only existing as torsos peeking out of the blade, as if reaching for something or someone. Justin looked down upon the sword, the blade humming with magical power. He smiled, grinned almost, and almost forgot the rest of his loadout. "It appears we meet again, cursed blade. I anticipate your service with optimism," Justin whispered darkly, without a hint of anything but anticipation. Releasing a dry chuckle that had no mirth, he acknowledged the grappling hook in his left hand and the Aurum Palm that enveloped his entire right arm up until the shoulder. "We have much to do."

Psych never really was one to stay in one place for any period of time. Of course, due to the circumstances of his current predicament, he had little choice in the matter. As the seemingly endless barrage of plasma bolts and fireballs streamed out of his single enemy and struck the stone wall he squatted behind, he debated whether or not he should use a Lockdown charge, or if instead he should wait and call for backup. Looking around, he determined that no one was close enough to help him against this seemingly pyromaniacal cyborg. So be it. Lockdown it is, then. He drew the canister rifle and loaded in the modified shell. He closed his eyes, and turned to face the end of the wall. His grip on the rifle strengthened. He jumped, firing the single shot, with perfect accuracy. As Makuta Bitil's protosteel armor locked up, he ceased to function properly, and would be a sitting duck for a whole minute. That should give the cleanup crew enough time to find (and murder) the insect-like freak. As he made his way to the tunnel, he again thought to himself, this time about whether or not he should deploy his miniature Ghost Academy. _Screw it,_ he thought, _I may as well wreak a little more chaos while I'm at this._ Smiling slyly, he made his way through the tunnel, only hoping that an ally would find and protect him while he prepared the portable nuke. Little did he know, he would not be disappointed. Not in THAT respect, anyway.

As Justin scaled the cliff face, he took note of Lucas' position. Quickly finding a safe place to momentarily sit and make contact, he put the two front fingers of his right hand to the earpiece on his right ear and asked Lucas about his loadout. Nothing but an infinite supply of shurikens… and a crowbar. He sighed. Not immediately useful. Maybe he could wear down some construct with chip damage. He doubted Lucas' chances of survival within the next few minutes. Speaking of which, the clock was ticking down, and his team only had nine minutes to capture the last point (and for Justin's crew to find Psych). He had little doubt as to which team the sneaky psychic was on (he would have encountered him by now if they were on the same team). He just needed to find some method of getting within close proximity to him. Which is how his current loadout would come in handy.

This is how the plan would go: Use the grapple hook to reach a safe vantage point; Use the elevation advantage to look for the green-clad thief; use the grapple hook to either a) pull himself to Psych's location, or b) drag Psych over to Justin; reprimand the dubious psychic for his kleptomaniacal behavior; use the magic sword to brutalize anyone in his way up to this point; haul him outside of the game to return the stolen phlebotinum; go to their little shared home and have ice cream so they can forget this whole mess.

That was the plan, and for the sake of his own sanity, he was sticking to it. He climbed yet higher on the cliff face until he found himself on what looked to be some kind of precarious, unprotected, and INCREDIBLY high up path. He hooked his climbing device onto a belt loop and drew his sword. Closing his eyes, he focused… and immediately felt as if something was approaching from behind him and to the left. Opening his eyes, he whipped around raised his blade into a defensive position, swiveling his head around. The only thing in the direction that was previously indicated to him was the cliff wall, and nothing… could… oh. OH. SHIT.

Justin watched in horror as the long-faced human phased out of the rock face and turned to face him, grinning like a lunatic. _Great. One of THESE guys._ Justin hated enemies who could phase through solid matter, especially if and when he was caught in situations where he couldn't do so himself. Gripping his sword tighter, he quickly blocked some kind of sphere-shaped watery projectile and ran at his ghostlike foe, taking one great downward swing. And then the blade was stopped as it reached the middle of the specter. Noticing the shocked expression on the Sniper's face, Justin took the hint and twisted his blade so that it was perpendicular to his previous swing, and slashed to his right, watching as ectoplasm and torn cloth followed in the blade's wake. _Oh_ yeah _… I have_ THAT _sword._ As he thought this to himself, the being in front of him began glowing with a blinding white light. As the luminescence subsided, what was left in the Sniper's place was a flying, fat, infant version of the ghost-man. Blowing a raspberry, the baby flew away… and was promptly shot down by what could most easily be described as a human-sized, spherical, projectile version of Missingno. _The blade can't kill you… but the Aurum Palm_ can. _Isn't that just savory?_ Justin chuckled dryly to himself. Oh, the beauties of unintended loadouts. He closed his eyes, to relax them after nearly getting them fried like a well-done egg. Not even opening them again, he twirled around and slashed diagonally upward, cutting the approaching angel in half. He didn't even remember moving. Opening his eyes, he watched as instead of becoming a baby, the formerly-winged entity faded into a sparkling trail of dust-like particles, which seemed to be able to propel itself faster than Justin could predict. "Oh, well," he muttered to himself, "At least it's harmless for a little while."

He continued down the unpredictable path for a few seconds, looking from left to right CONSTANTLY in an attempt to locate Psych. No such luck. What he DID find was an Ork, armed with a chainsaw. _NopenopenopenopenopenopeSOOOMUCHNOPE!_ He managed to cut off its arms, but this only succeeded in the chainsaw falling into the ground and causing a small avalanche. Remembering his grappling-hook, he shot toward the bottom of the canyon before the boulders could crush his legs. He landed right next to the High Templar, who barely afforded him a glance as he and Lucas were pushed back by the surprisingly well-set defenders. Fortunately, reinforcements were on the way; a black-clad, elfin-looking figure, the Scout from Team Fortress 2, and a large, biomechanical humanoid wearing a strange, brown mask. Looking to his left, he saw Sierra Seven and Psych in a partially exposed room inside the cliff face. Justin barely gave himself time to think " _Looks like you beat me to the punch, Seven_ ," before he reacted to a large, slow-moving, missile-shaped object moving toward the center of his now-reinforced group. Making some quick judgments, he made to use his sword like a baseball bat before the thought reached him: _Waitaminute, that's the Davy Crocke-_ Too late. Justin, the Scout, the High Templar, and the elfin figure were obliterated by the resulting explosion, everyone else being forced to the ground due to the force of the blast. He could only imagine its wielder laughing their ass off as he felt himself be pulled to the Spawn Room.

As his feet touched ground again, he was pinned under the knife-like glares of the three victims of his collateral damage.

The Scout was first: " _What is your major malfunction,_ _brutha?!"_

Justin only shrugged in response, putting on an admittedly good poker face. He also heard a muffled explosion in the background, and wondered if Psych had anything to do with it.

Immediately, he was slapped in the face by the black-clad, spiky-haired elf(?) as he heard a strange splashing sound.

The Protoss only gave him a disappointed glance and shook his head in shame. Somehow, this got to him the most.

Justin checked the clock. Seven minutes to Mission's End. He thought the whole excursion took a little bit shorter, but he could easily be wrong. Before any more time had elapsed, he got an earful of this message from good ol' mister Seven: " _I have the thief, and am leaving. It would be best if you two joined me."_ Apparently, it was time to go. Flipping the bird to the guy who slapped him, he walked out of the spawn room and back into the endless white expanse, where he was met by Psych, Zeratul, and Sierra. Lucas soon joined them. Once everyone was present, they began to make their way to a plateau that Sierra had selected for who-knows-what reasons. As they did so, Justin felt two shadows approaching the group, but ignored them. Big mistake.

As the all-too-familiar whine filled his ears, he turned around to see the owners of the two shadows. And the beam they were charging up. It was at this moment that Justin gave up on life. The beam fired, the natural forces of Life and Death intertwining, deciding the fate of the five souls caught in its brilliance. That fate was to become ashes. Justin felt his body, the flesh, blood, and bone that made up his physical self, yet at the same time, he didn't feel it, as if its very essence was becoming nothing but dust and air. He knew Psych was undergoing a similar sensation. And then, all of a sudden, it was over, and he found himself in an endless black expanse, no light, life, or matter anywhere. He felt his spirit get pulled in several directions at once, as if it was having trouble deciding which afterlife was its preference. He felt one force become stronger than the others, and was dragged in that "direction", toward a place he was already familiar with. And then he was in the primary Entrance, with the other four people of his group all around him. He and Psych shared a brief glance, as the three visitors from elsewhere seemed to have difficulty understanding the recent turn of events.

Sighing, Justin pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered "It seems Tiffany is rather angry with us." Psych nodded in agreement, but wisely said nothing.


	6. Chapter 6:-You get Endlessly Spawncamped

Justin considered his many options as he paced around the large room. Looking to his side, he saw the ten-story tall doors that led to the outside world. On the other side of those doors, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, were his opponents. He also was aware that they would kill him on sight, as many times as it would take to accomplish their goal. What that goal was, he had no clue, and Psych was too busy discussing the nature of interdimensional portals with Lucas (to alleviate the boredom) to give him any insight. Well, time to do some tests. He closed his eyes and searched his mind. He waded through the murky depths until he found the glowing doorway that symbolized the exit from his swamp of thoughts… and into the Congregation. He passed through the white square and found himself in a wide, open, black field. All over it were people, people like him, creatures of the darkness, creatures so similar to himself that he was the most at home with them. They were a part of him.

In a very, VERY literal sense. They were different aspects of him, given independent thought and personality, the majority of which being unique in some form or another. Thirty were identical to him in every way; sixteen considered themselves his better judgment; one was Emma; one was the First; several hundred were weapon specialists; one was… unstable, and thus kept locked away. There were many, many others, and all of them were here, ready to meet him and discuss the current situation. Though they all shared memories, their varied opinions and points of view could lead to potentially brilliant ideas… or incredibly stupid ones. Now, however, was not the time for much discussion. It was a vain hope, but they all knew, in truth, that the Collective was needed for something more physical than conversation. They were needed for their physical skills, the self-trained traits that gave them their edge in combat… or simply aided in their survival. And survival, though seemingly redundant here, was something that was necessary in order stall for long enough to figure out their opponents' motives and methods.

Justin hastily selected five Facets, as he called them: two were of the Identical Thirty; two were light-footed and thought quickly; one was a self-proclaimed expert in diplomacy. They all made their way from the field, into the swamp of thoughts that Justin had just waded through.

He opened his eyes, brought back to reality with a firm will and clenched teeth. He then leaned… both right and left simultaneously. His body split in two, in a manner not unlike cytokinesis, ending in both himself and one of his Facets being corporeal. Each of the results then repeated this process. The two new ones from the last split repeated the self-cloning method one last time, resulting in six near-identical Justins replacing the one "original". Needless to say, this all got Sierra to lift an eyebrow, Lucas to drop his jaw, and Zeratul to look away sharply. Psych had seen this enough times to not be affected. During the entire internal venture, Justin had been formulating a plan. It wasn't incredibly complex, but it was a start.

One of the Identical Thirty (or The Thirty for short) walked toward the door, motioning for everyone to get out of its immediate vicinity. Once everyone there had vacated the space, he slowly pushed it open. He slid out and closed it behind him. Now was the moment of truth.

Everyone held their breath (if they were capable of breathing in the first place). They heard three sharp _thump_ s against the door. The door slid open inward, and… the Facet was practically nailed to it, having been impaled by three grey spears in his torso. His eyes had already rolled back into his head. Off-white, clouded fluid oozed out of the entrance wounds and onto the spears, eventually dripping down onto the ground. His jaw hung slightly. He was dead.

A Justin swung the door inward completely and made sure that no one was within Line of Sight of anyone looking at the Entrance dead-on. He then removed the spears from the Facet's corpse and watched it fall to the ground. After about five seconds, the carcass began sinking into the ground, with little black wisps of gas sliding off and melting back into one of the other bodies. All five remaining ones shuddered a little, knowing exactly how he died. It was exactly how it looked: impalement in three different places. "He returns to the Congregation of the Collective. We have five more attempts."

Lucas chimed in. "Wait. If you can just split, why don't you just clone yourself over and over again?"

A Justin answered, though mostly just to humor him. "I won't clone myself any more for now. Mostly because doing so too many times will make sense to you." Lucas pouted. "Don't worry! I don't HATE you! I just like messing with you and your group of cowards." Sierra lifted a finger, then lowered it, apparently interrupting himself before he could say anything. "Good call," one of the Justins snickered. Suddenly, his face lit up, as if he just had an idea. All the other Justins began signaling him something along the lines of "no" or "stop". He grinned mischievously. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he pronounced with a sly smile. Slowly, he nudged open the door. Then without bothering to close it, he did something INCREDIBLY stupid. He ran out into the open, yelling out "I AM THE MAN WHO SPEAKS IN HANDS!" once, flipping the double-bird in front of himself.

He was promptly cut into four pieces not six seconds after leaving the safety of the Entrance room. The four remaining Justins simultaneously facepalmed (as one of them closed the open door), while Sierra groaned in disappointment. Lucas let out a little bit of an immature giggle (to no one's surprise). Zeratul and Psych did not react at all. "Okay, who's next?" One of the Justins asked…

Before being rudely interrupted by Lucas (go figure). "Is there SOME way that we can differentiate between all of you? Like, do you have names or something? Or are you all just called Justin?"

The four Justins looked at each other briefly with blank looks on their faces before bursting into laughter. "Of COURSE we have names! What do you think we are, a Hivemind?" One of the Justins caught the mistake that the speaker did not. "Don't answer that."

Sierra rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet insult in some foreign language. Psych shook his head in disappointment. "You kind of WALKED RIGHT INTO that one," he berated.

The quad of Justins shrugged and listed off their names: Justin, Klatz, Emile, and Raij.

"THANK you," Lucas exhaled. "Now we can stop calling you The Four Asshats."

Klatz (the one with slightly longer hair) laughed and walked toward Lucas, crouching down a little and placing a hand on his shoulder. He then leaned in and whispered " _Call us that_ _one_ _more time, and I will ensure that you will never speak again, you little shit-biscuit."_ For added effect, he popped his own neck bones. Satisfied that his threat got across, he walked back to the group and popped his knuckles. He signaled one of his "siblings" to open the door as he placed himself near it at an angle. Crouching down, he positioned himself for a running start. Closing his eyes, he prepared a quick set of movements he would perform based on what came at him. Opening his eyes, he ran out of the doorway at surprising speed, small black trail in his wake. Clutching a small, flat object in his hand, he flowed and danced his way around projectiles and beams that came his way, leaving behind a series of dark ghost images and wisps of black gas, which quickly vanished. Nearing one of the door-campers, he dropped whatever he was carrying and tackled one of his assailants. In an instant, a magical orb crashed into his side, knocking him away from his opponent. As Klatz felt an unpleasant, sickening feeling begin to crawl through his torso, he realized that the projectile was a Ball of Decay. " _Wwhhyy_ …." He began to groan as the feeling spread to the rest of his body. Then, in a matter of moments, his entire form rotted and fell apart, leaving behind nothing but a scum-covered skeleton, which then disintegrated.

Suffice to say, anyone watching would have been deeply disgusted and/or disturbed. This was true for Sierra Seven, who turned toward the remaining three Facets, who were all either cringing or retching. He took a moment to spare them a look of pity, before asking Psych a rather important question: "Why is this happening, exactly? Trapping us in here, I mean."

Sighing, he gave an answer he would inevitably regret later: "You are the reason. You… sort of… made a name for yourself among us. It wasn't a very good name. Quite frankly, Justin and I are the only important people in our group who actually respect you. Emily takes your existence as a challenge, and Tiffany seems to hate your guts."

Sierra interjected. "Who is this Tiffany, anyway?"

It was then that Psych realized that good old Sierra didn't know everyone by name. "Tiffany is our Life Elemental, and one o-"

"…Life Elemental? Doesn't that seem… along the lines of God-like? Or at least mythical?" Sierra had a point. If someone could control life itself (though the term Elemental was a little bit of a misnomer), then they would be able to manipulate potentially anyone who would oppose them, and likely be able to bend the meaning of "life" to their will. At the very minimum, they would be able to prolong their own life to insane lengths.

"It's exhaustive beyond belief," Psych informed his pseudo-rival, glancing back at the Facets to see what they were up to. Two of them were heading out the door. "And there can only be one naturally occurring in her home Universe at a time, as far as we can tell. However, pair one of those with their direct opposite and counterpart – Death – and you get a team that isn't likely to be defeated any time soon, so long as they cooperate. And, during our second encounter with you, you managed to get her very, VERY angry." He shook his head in shame. "She was the second person you incapacitated."

"…"

Psych turned back to see that one of the Justins was still inside the room. However, a quick glance outside proved that one of the last two to leave was also still alive, and was attempting to negotiate some kind of agreement with the attackers. He waited patiently, watching Justin's alter-ego keep the tides of verbal conflict to a minimum. He was rather eloquent as he was doing so, as well. In fact, he might've even been able to end the veritable imprisonment peacefully.

That thought ended when the diplomat collapsed for no discernible reason. After a few seconds, his body began sinking into the ground, in the same manner as all the others'.

Psych quickly brought his head back into the room, out of harm's way. "You're up," he muttered to the final Justin. "Good luck."

Justin sighed in disappointment. He searched through the shared memories of his Facets and figured out who exactly his opponents were: There was, of course, Tiffany. There was her counterpart, a living conduit of Death. The appeared to be a group of about four mercenaries with impressively advanced equipment, and what appeared to be a Protoss Havoc. Justin gulped and made sure that his twin knives were securely sheathed at his sides. _Inhale… exhale…_ he thought, calming himself. _You can do this._ He knew death would just result in revival, but instinct still told him to prolong his life as long as possible. He slowly looked out into the open, at the blank white floor, the cluster of people that would probably murder him, at the blank expanse on the other side of the door. He walked out.

"Okay guys. I know why you're here, and why exactly you're bent on whatever it is you're doing. But could you PLEASE stop hammering me for at least long enough to explain what happened back there?" Justin requested this with his hands up and his weapons sheathed, in an attempt to show a lack of hostility.

Their response was to fire a startlingly large laser beam at him. Noticing the flash on the top of the weapon just before they fired, Justin covered his face with his arms and waited for the coming incineration.

* * *

After a few seconds, he noticed that he hadn't died. He also noticed that he didn't feel anything underneath his feet. Dropping his arms, he looked around and realized that a) he was in the air, above and behind the people that just tried to kill him, and b) he was falling at a notable pace, and if he didn't do anything about it within the next few seconds, he would end up with broken shins again. He aimed his body parallel to the ground to slow his fall for a second or two, then angled himself again and rolled out of the fall when he impacted the ground. Looking back, he saw a translucent, violet, dome-shaped barrier being projected by Psych, who was just outside the doorway. Lucas was right next to Psych, and had a portal that he was rooting through at his feet. Sierra Seven was just barely within the force-field, and was charging some form of energy-based attack (judging from the glowing ball between his hands). Zeratul was nowhere to be seen. Figuring that a fight was about to occur, Justin drew his knives and focused on one particular target. Sinking into his own shadow, he emerged from one of the generic mercenaries' shadows and promptly grabbed him(?) around the neck and pulled him down. Throwing him to the side just before they hit the ground, Justin took advantage of the fighter's surprise to drive a blade through his helmet. Yanking the curved sheet of metal out of its resting place in the unfortunate humanoid's skull, he turned around and saw the Havoc. _Easy enemy,_ he thought. _It can't even attack._ He got out of his crouch and sprinted toward it. Almost immediately, he crashed face-first into a red, roughly hexagonal force-field. Pushing himself off of the block of… whatever it is force-fields are made of, Justin saw the Havoc looking directly at him. Moving his gaze down, he saw a targeting reticle on the floor around his feet. Looking around, he saw that the entire enemy "team" had turned around to face him.

It was at this moment that Justin knew. He f***ed up.

Just before he jumped into another shadow, Justin took note of the fact that Psych and the others began charging at the clustered-up enemies, with Lucas inside some ridiculous-looking mechanical weapons-platform (which was later identified as DVa's MEKA), Sierra with twin Aura Spheres (one in each hand), and with Psych not only projecting an omnidirectional shield, but surrounded by a halo of indigo spheres of plasma. Just as he completely submerged himself in the comfortable blackness, a slew of attacks collided with the shadow he entered. Due to the nature of some of the projectiles (lasers glow), the shadow was briefly removed from existence, placing Justin in a precarious position of existing in a void with no immediate exit. Even when the shadow reappeared in its proper place, that connection between reality and the Dark Realm (as Justin liked to call it) was severed, and he would have to find another one.

Replacing the large dome-shield with a smaller one surrounding Lucas, Psych engaged "Constant Teleportation Mode," also known by some as "F*** You". To paraphrase, he never stopped teleporting. It didn't matter _where_ he teleported, so long as it was within the immediate vicinity and he didn't teleport INTO someone or something. Every now and then, he would stop to throw a few Plasma Spheres, but other than that, he disappeared as soon as he appeared. To some, this would be disorienting. It was, to a degree. However, not only had Psych done this several times before, but he also had practice with the psychic skill of moving one's mind and senses elsewhere, allowing him to change his perspective to a top-down view (not unlike that of XCOM or the original Zelda games). Remembering his days of StarCraft-addiction, he likened what was happening to Stalkers' blink-micromanagement, but incredibly fast. This sapped all of his attention. If it weren't for that, he would have been able to see something approaching from the distance.

That something was winged, in possession of a Gravity Hammer, and was very, VERY angry.

* * *

 **I have FINALLY finished this chapter. It took a lot of time and procrastination, but I can now take a break and work on NOT being an arrogant little condescending dips*** who's difficult to work with. And, yes, I will work on Inauguration.**

 **With that irritable vent out of the way, I bid thee farewell and good morrow, loyal readers.**

 **Get back to work, G.**


	7. Suspended until further notice

This fanfiction has been suspended indefinitely until further notice.

Due to both complaints on your part and me realizing what a clusterf- this is doomed to become, I have, to use meme-terms, "killed it before it lays eggs." In other words, I will not be continuing to write this until I decide that something good will come out of this, which isn't likely. I apologize for having to subject and expose you to this crap. I am truly sorry.

In the case that I post something better, then read that first by all means. If you actually liked this monster spawned from an Indie game-induced haze, then let me know, and I might try to rewrite and improve it. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but don't flame.

Even this notice is turning into something disgusting. I'll end it here. Goodbye, and may you find something you actually enjoy reading.


End file.
